


The light behind the scars.

by lucystormborn



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Crewt - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy, Hurt and comfort, M/M, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:47:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucystormborn/pseuds/lucystormborn
Summary: Newt scamander collects broken things. He fixes them, studies them and sets eventually sets them free. When Credence Barebone turns up on his doorstep Newt doesn't know what he'll struggle with most, fixing him or letting him go.





	1. Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> So... I'm trash. Comments and likes are always appreciated, drop me a message if you have any suggestions as always. And please try to ignore my over-fondness for the comma... I'm working on it. (also apologies for when I uploaded it with like three words :S Sorry about that. I did not mean to do that). If you hate me or my writing style or what me to write for another ship or just need someone to vent your feelings to, send a message to my new tumblr @thebreathingsofmyheart

It was a curious thing. Newt Scamander was used to travelling - he loved travelling, and never before had he felt apprehension of this kind, this kind of pulling in his gut. He pretended he didn't know what it was; pretended he didn't know that what he was afraid of. What was really causing him such pain was the idea of leaving his friends- the only friends he'd had in a very long time. He tried not to think of it as he threw himself down on the hard bed of the cabin

"Worrying only means you suffer twice," he reminded himself under his breath, though the words seemed empty now. He couldn't even take his own advice. He involuntarily thought of Credence - poor Credence, torn apart so completely. Another lost soul senselessly taken, if they had only bothered to try to help... Newt shook his head - it wasn't worth dwelling on the past.

The familiar muttering of Pickett in his coat pocket woke him from the refuge of his mind. He smiled at the little creature, turning it over in his hands and muttering soothing words to him. Words that they both knew were lies. 

Ordinarily Newt would spend most of the day in his case, tending to the creatures there, but today he was restless; on three separate occasions he found himself almost compelled to leave the cabin and wander the deck, a inclination he had never had before. In the end he settled with just pacing up and down the small room muttering to Pickett gently.

The knock on his door shook him. No one ever did that - it was an unwritten rule on ships like this that you kept to yourself. Silencing Pickett, he cautiously made his way to the door and opened it, his hand hovering at his side, ready to reach for his wand. Newt had seen a lot of strange things, some that were impossibly beautiful, but nothing he had ever seen compared to the sight of the man outside his door.

He was slumping into himself even more than usual and his face was covered in a few fresh scars but there was no mistaking it.

"Credence!" It wasn't a question, more of a cry of disbelief. The boy flinched, Newt didn't know if it was his voice or the sound of his own name that caused it. Dark eyes lifted from the floor where they had lingered and dragged themselves up to fix upon Newts own. Credence searched for words, he couldn’t seem to find any. After a moment of struggling Newt put his hand on the man's shoulder (he was a man, Newt realized, though he somehow made himself look like a child) and whispered, "you'd better come inside".

Though Credence shied away from his touch the moment the door closed behind them, he seemed to recover some of his senses. "I'm sorry," his voice was cracked and quiet, like he was afraid of being heard. "I didn't know... I don't have anywhere.. I..." He was frightened, Newt could sense that, but he'd come to Newt of his own accord, so he must trust him a little bit.

"You're welcome here. It's a wonder that you survived...?" Newt stopped himself when he noticed the pained look in the other boy's eyes. "You don't have to answer that." He muttered and cleared off his scarf and notebook from the bed where he'd deserted them. "You're tired? Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Newt soothed, noticing that Credence fighting to keep his eyes open, shooting him a nervous smile that he hoped might be reassuring. After a moment of just staring, Credence nodded.

Credence slept until midnight, by which point Newt (who'd occupied himself by sitting at the small desk and copying down his new notes about Swooping Evil venom from the events in New York) was starting to hear the call of sleep too. Credence, who'd been sleeping in the same shirt he'd probably worn for weeks (which Newt had tried to protest to, only to realise that made things significantly more awkward) drew the thin blanket around him when he awoke. When Newt finally realized he was awake - which did take a moment since he made no noise at all - he offered him a weary smile and quietly asked "cold?" to which Credence just nodded.

For the first time, Newt realised how utterly lost he was to handle this. The pair spent almost what felt like hours in silence, neither knowing how to respond to the other. When the silence had finally cracked Newt he decided to try and old-faithful technique. "Credence?" he asked, "can I show you something?" Credence, who'd been quietly contemplating the floor looked up, which Newt promptly took as an affirmative answer. 

There was one part life where Newt excelled, where all awkwardness and confusion melted away. Maybe it would even be as good for Credence as it was for him. After all - a man like him could use a little magic in his life. Newt smiled a sincere smile and made his way over to his case. He slowly flipped open the lid and gestured down inside.

"It's in there." At the incredulous look Credence shot him, he added, "do you trust me?"

He could tell that Credence wasn't sure, but after a moment he pulled himself up from the bed and gazed down into the case. After a little bit more deliberation, Newt stepped inside as well, Credence followed, stumbling slightly on his way down.

"What…? What is this place?" Credence asked in awe, the first full sentence he'd formed all day.

Newt blushed a little with pride. "This is my sanctuary for magical creatures. I'll show you around."


	2. Magizoologist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt Scamander shows Credence barebone his magical case (that's not an innuendo so settle down.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I uploaded this by accident with like just a paragraph and by the time I went to upload it all again it already had loads of views and kudos?? anyway, fair warning I will be inconsistent with updating this, I might go a week without updating and then update it three times in one day. Fight me.

Credence stood in the little makeshift bedroom in a state of polite awe, his dark eyes were searching (albeit slowly and delicately) the shelves and curios of the place with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "it isn't much" Newt said quietly slapping a desktop near him with a kind of absent pride "but it's home". Credence knew that a suitcase wasn't a real home but he didn't feel like he was in any place to mention that, instead he watched Newt as he pottered around in the little room, smiling at some strange bat like creature that was hanging from a shelf. He seemed to finally remember that Credence was there, he turned back to him and with an enviable easy smile he muttered "come on I'll give you the tour." Newt led him out of the wooden room and through some kind of forest that had no business being in a brief case. On the way he pointed out various beasts and blurted facts about them, they passed a murtlap, a billywig and several bowtruckles like the one that lived in Newt coat. Newt named all of these but didn't give them much time, he did at one point offer to introduce him to Pickett (apparently that was the bowtruckle's name) but Credence politely declined, he struggled to handle humans let alone tiny tree men.

There was something enlightening about watching Newt, it almost gave him pleasure to see the man so at ease, so perfectly comfortable. It gave Credence hope that perhaps there was somewhere out there like this for him- A home. He dismissed the thought as they entered another part of the case, where many creatures lived in close proximity to each other, first Newt pointed out the Occamys "I found them in India, they're quite the sight aren't they" Credence agreed but he didn't say it, Newt insisted that they move on since the Occamy's were sleeping and that he'd introduce them better another time- which gave Credence and oddly warm feeling that he couldn't place. Newt then spent another half an hour tending to the niffler (a furry little creature surrounded by silver and gold) "Nifflers" he told Credence as he scratched the creatures belly much to it's delight "are covetous little things" He gestured to the glinting things around the little beast and added "attracted to anything that shines". They spent two hours this way, tending to the creatures in Newts case, occasionally Credence did lend a hand- he carried water or food but he continued to decline Newt's offer to touch them, both afraid of them and afraid that he might hurt them and cause Newt pain. For all the beasts were dazzling, their keeper was a far more interesting sight, Credence had never seen someone so gentle or with so much love in his eyes. Sometimes when he forgot Credence would there, he would mutter quietly to pickett (or perhaps to himself) or catch himself singing quietly under his breath. It made Credence ache with envy, Newt was so sure of himself here, so calm, Credence could never hope to know peace like that.

"so what do you think?" Newt asked while he was feeding the mooncalves (a particularly peaceful set of beasts). The question was an odd one for Credence, and there was an odd conflicted look in Newts eyes that seemed almost as if he expected Credence to devalue his beasts while also hoping beyond hope that he might see the beauty in them. "they're beautiful" Credence admitted, after all it was the truth, he'd never seen anything with such beauty in his life. Newt's grin was almost to bright to look at, his grey-blue eyes were brilliant with light, Credence didn't know people could be like that, filled with such light all the time. Eventually Newt got too tired to carry on, he was worried about sleeping and leaving Credence alone but when Credence insisted for the third time that he would be fine and Newt should get some sleep, he finally gave in. His beasts weren't dangerous- or so he swore. So he left Credence to wander the case provided he didn't touch anything (small chance of that in his current state of mind.) and retired upstairs to the little bed in the cabin.

The second Newt was gone, the room felt so empty. Credence hadn't realised, until he was alone, how very good to him Newt had been. He'd taken him in without a thought, made sure that he was secure and safe and as happy as he knew how to be. More than that, he'd introduced him to his creatures, to the thing he was most fond of and trusted him not to hurt them enough to let him see them on his own. But most of all, he was grateful that he didn't ask any questions. It must have been confusing and strange for Newt to have him just turn up on his doorstep like he had, and surely he must want to know how he survived the events of the previous week... the truth was that even if Newt asked, Credence couldn't answer. He remembered pain beyond belief, being torn apart, then reconnecting, becoming one again and finding himself in the only place he knew he could find help. On the doorstep of the man who'd tried to save his life. 

 

 

 


	3. he's a hugger

When Newt Scamander finally woke up on the ferry back to London it was almost noon. Granted, he’d gone to bed a little late and his adventures in new York had tired him but as soon as the disorientated feeling of waking up somewhere that wasn’t the case had past, he began to feel an intense worry about how long Credence had been down in the case on his own. He practically threw himself down the ladder of the case, grabbing his waistcoat from the chair and pulling it on as he went.

“Credence?” he called out into the darkness… No reply. He ran frantically from section to section shouting Credence’s name, but each time there was no answer. Occasionally he stopped to ask the more helpful beasts in the case if they had seen him but none of the bowtruckles knew where he was and the young acromantula that he’d collected in Asia apparently hadn’t seen him all.

Newt began to panic.

He shouldn’t have left Credence alone - he should have stayed and kept him safe.

By the time he had gotten to the part of the case where the Niffler slept he’d almost lost hope. Newt quietly asked him if it had seen any sign of Credence. To his surprise, it didn’t shake its head. After a moment of deliberation it finally gave in and nodded towards the far corner of the case where the Occamys and Demiguise lived.

The Demiguise, of course! If anyone could help find Credence, it would be Dougal. Dougal was a particularly gentle Demiguise and certainly one of the most helpful beasts in the case. The strange thing was though that his nest was empty and Dougal was nowhere to be found.

When Newt finally found Credence he was resting against a tree not far from the Occamy nest. At some point he must have felt tired and drifted off again. He’d been covered in a blanket and was resting on the pillow Newt kept on the little bed in the case – Newt got the feeling that Credence hadn’t put that there himself. He probably could have deduced that from Credence’s nature but it was further proved by Dougal, who’s little furry arms were draped across Credence’s shoulder.

“Found him like that did you?” Newt asked quietly to the creature who cocked his head indignantly at the question and remained wound tightly around the broken boy. Satisfied that Credence was safe (and in good company) Newt went about his morning business, he decided to tend to the Occamys last so that they wouldn’t wake Credence with their squawking.

Newt made the fatal mistake of coming to check on Credence in the middle of feeding his beasts. On seeing him, the Occamys kicked up an almighty fuss. Newt spun around to look and them and raised his hands. “Alright… Shhh… Mum’s here,” but by the time he’d gone to get the bucket of food to keep them quiet, they had already woken Credence up. 

His eyes fluttered open just as Newt turned the corner. For a moment he rubbed his eyes, looked confusedly around himself, saw the Demiguise and jumped a mile. He cried out in fear and whimpered away from it (to which the demiguise skittered quickly back off to it’s nest… Somehow Newt knew he hadn’t seen that coming).

“Easy,” Newt said to the boy who was still cowering away like he’d been mortally wounded, not hugged and taken care of. “That’s just Dougal… He’s a hugger. He didn’t mean any harm.”

Newt crouched to sit by Credence who slowly dragged his eyes up to look at him. After a moment of just sitting beside the man he carefully put a hand up to his shoulder. To his surprise Credence leant into the touch, seeking comfort from him in a way Newt had never seen him do before. The Occamays were still shouting in their nest, the bucket of food sat awkwardly by Newt’s side. Right now though, he had a more immediate problem to deal with, how on earth was he going to help this man. 

“You see?” He whispered soothingly, “nothing’s going to hurt you, not them or me. It’s alright… it’s okay.” Then he slowly convinced Credence to stop cowering and give him a look that was somewhere between pain and confusion.

After a while of sitting like this he finally gave up. “I’ve got to feed the Occamys, just give me a second.” He got up slowly and Credence pulled himself up a little bit so he could watch - he was much taller than he made himself look.

“Alright” Newt muttered to the beasts “quiet now” he was distracted and more than a little nervous with Credence watching him. He got a little too close to one of the Occamys and it nearly took off his hand, Newt winced and muttered under his breath, “sorry. I’m sorry.”

Credence, who had seen the whole affair was looking at the creatures with a newly terrified look. “You said they wouldn’t hurt anyone” he said quietly, which filled Newt with guilt.

“That was my fault,” he admitted. “Occamys learn to protect themselves early. Their eggs are pure silver, they get poached and abused in all sorts of nasty ways, so that’s their defence. They don’t like sudden movement and their apprehensive if you get to close. But they are quite wonderful creatures when you come to understand them.”

The similarities between the beasts and the boy hit Newt quite suddenly, he thought to himself,  _ rather like someone else I know _ .


	4. Hufflepuff blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i have made myself cry four times writing this bit and i don't even know why. The comments are giving me life, also please feel free to discuss this ship with me on tumblr at any time @thebreathingsofmyheart 
> 
> (Probably things are spelt wrong, I typed this on my phone. Just comment or message me on tumblr or whatever, I'll fix it)

It took them around a week to reach London, and each day was filled with Newt slowly teaching Credence about his creatures. As time melted past, Credence began to speak a little more often; his eyes grew slightly less sad and in time he gained just a little confidence. Though Newt couldn't claim to have entirely convinced the boy to trust him, Credence had formed a lifelong bond with Dougal. True to his character, Dougal had refused to accept defeat in looking after Credence and Newt often tasked him with taking food to him or checking that he was alright. At first Credence politely kept his distance from the creature, but when he woke from dark dreams and found little blue eyes staring sympathetically at him (and when on such nights Dougal refused to let go of his hand until Newt awoke) he eventually came to find comfort in the beast and see it as a friend. Sometimes he even spoke to it, only quietly and when he thought Newt wasn't listening. 

He would tell Dougal about his dreams, about Mr Graves and how betrayed he felt and how useless. Of course the Demiguise didn't understand most of what he said, but it somehow didn't matter - it was a way to admit the thoughts without feeling embarrassed or pathetic. He often caught Newt smiling as Credence and Dougal entered a room, Dougal wrapped around his shoulders. It was a sad smile somehow, like it hurt him to look at them, but he pleased him at the same time.

Once, he caught Newt whisper to Dougal as he was putting the creature to bed. "You might just be the only friend he's ever had," he smiled down at it with an almost teary pride. "You have no idea what that means to him, that kind of warmth. But you give it anyway." Then his eyes did the thing that he did when he was thinking "you truly are remarkable" at one of his beasts (Credence recognized that well enough by now).

And so they docked in London, better friends than they had been but still a little wary of each other. "You'll have to forgive me" Newt said as they stepped off the boat "my flat is a little bit of a mess. I wasn't expecting visitors." The idea that Newt even had a flat was an odd one to Credence, it had long since been clear to him that he considered the case as his home.

Credence had been right to be sceptical because the little flat in London was anything but homely. It was a pretty enough room, small and filled with oak furniture and curios from foreign lands. On the wall there was a poster that depicted some men on broomsticks, zooming around the room - "The Chudley Cannons." 

"The best quidditch team in the world... Though you wouldn't know it." Newt explained when he saw Credence marveling at it. It was true that Credence had a lot of questions about the picture but that didn't answer any of them. On the bed and across the door of the wardrobe there were a series of black and yellow scarves and hats, in addition to a blanket of the same colours that looked hand knitted. On the desk there were a number of notebooks with dark velvet covers, a crimson candle burnt almost down to the wick, and a collection of empty tea cups beside a lot of quills. Newt glanced briefly at the picture there, which was of a young man that might have once been Newt and a girl with long dark hair. He grimaced and set whatever thought he was having aside.

Although the room was vibrant, and infinitely interesting, it clearly did not belong to the man stood in front of Credence. There was no sign of any beast or beast habitat and the posters on every wall had all the suggestions of the home of a man not yet out of his teens. "I moved here when I first left school. I thought I wanted to stay in London." His eyes half closed the way they did when he was trying not to give time to a depressing thought.

Credence instinctively reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, the way Newt had done for him so many times. The apprehensive smile newt gave him in return could have lit up even this dismal little room "we won't be here long." He told himself as much as Credence, "just until I can drop off my book."

Newt spent most of his time in London dashing off to meetings and leaving Credence alone to stare at his poster covered walls. Occasionally Newt would leave the case behind or at least Dougal or Pickett to keep him company, but sometimes he was left alone. He hated those days more than anything else. Whenever Newt returned from a day like that, he would apologise several times and make Credence a cup of tea (the English made tea very different from Americans’) and they would sit on cold nights underneath Newts Hufflepuff blanket.


	5. I didn't know you needed one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! I Told you I'd be inconsistent and terrible and now you know

Their short time in London was spent in a rather pleasurable manner. Newt was making some success with Credence and tonight his book had finally been accepted by his publishers. He was in such a good mood, in fact, that even being in his old dismal apartment didn’t dampen his spirits. He returned home that evening with an easy smile and entered to see Credence sitting alone on his bed, wincing in pain. 

“Credence,” he rushed toward the boy and sat by his side, close enough that he’d feel Newt’s presence but not so close as to intimidate him, “are you alright?” Credence dragged his dark eyes up in the way he did when he didn’t want to answer a question.

He bit on the inside of his lip  and fiddled with his hands a moment before whispering,“it hurts” and resting his head against Newt’s shoulder.

For just a second, Newt stayed very still, trying to process this new interaction between them. Credence rarely accepted Newt’s touch, let alone initiated it. 

“What does?” He inquired. When Credence gave no reply, he pulled away to look at him. “Credence. What hurts?”

A moment of dread lingered in Credences eyes. He slowly turned over his hand which he had been cradling in his lap; across his palm was a web of scars in various stages of healing. Credence, who had been baring himself in silence, muttered quietly to himself, “everything,” and closed his eyes. 

Scars were no strangers to Newt. He had had more than his fair share of them in his time, but these were different. Some of the oldest ones were covered with twisted skin, almost as if they had been badly healed. 

“Who did this?” Newt whispered to the boy, who was trying very hard not to whimper away.

“My Ma…” Credence began, his voice was so weak that Newt hardly heard it. “She thought that…” 

“No.” Newt interrupted, “I don’t mean who gave them to you. I mean who healed them?” 

“... Mr Graves.” Credence could barely formed the name without wincing, “in return for my help he healed them.” 

“Come with me,” Newt ordered, refusing to give any more time to the thought of that man.

Credence followed without argument, his dark eyes retreating to gaze at the floor. Once in the case, Newt acted quickly, his scarred hands fiddled with bottles and plants on the crooked shelves. His expression through this was one that Credence had never seen him wear, but one he knew far better than most could. Newt was angry. It made Credence burn - he hated to think he’d forced such anger on this man, to think he was a shadow that had so corrupted the light. 

“Here,” Newt said quietly, locating a bottle of whatever he was looking for and some bandages, “now give me your hand.”

He moved back to stand in front of Credence and extended his own. Credence didn’t move. His eyes remained fixed on the floor, though they flickered a little when Newt spoke.

“Your hand, Credence.” he noticed Credence glance at him a little from the corner of his eye and gave him a gentle smile in return, “it won’t hurt.” A few more minutes and Credence’s hands were safely wrapped and his even his spirits a little lifted. He’d watched Newt work with his usual fascination. True to his fashion, Newt never stopped talking as he worked. 

“You see, you won't heal things just by using a spell. Any decent herbologist knows that nature is the only real magic involved in healing. What Graves...” (at this he stopped because Credence visibly recoiled) “what… happened here is; the spell simply pushed the scars and the pain away for a while- allowing you to ignore them, but not healing them at all. What these really need is time… and a little bit of love.”

By the time evening fell, Credence was already showing great signs of improvement. He was even tempted to take Newt up on his offer to teach him to play wizards chess; Newt swore that Dougal and Pickett were a good enough opponents but the team up on their part did seem a little unfair. As it turned out, the inequality of the teams didn’t make much difference, Newt had beaten them both in less than ten moves. Apparently he was adept at many things- even if he didn’t look it. Credence took full advantage of Newt not having to rush off to the ministry by watching him all night, and letting his fingers linger on Newt’s a little too long when he was passed his evening cup of tea. 

When Pickett had finally agreed to go to bed, and the two of them were left alone, he once again rested his head on Newts shoulder (this time Newt didn’t move an inch). He spoke quietly, but not like he was afraid this time, the kind of quiet that implied he knew only one person ever needed to hear him. 

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” he smiled at the man who had been his saviour more times than he could count. 

“I didn’t know you needed one.” Newt grinned back. 

  
  



End file.
